


Sidelines

by snarechan



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-03
Updated: 2006-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:53:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Torn was just minding his own business when Razer and his small group of followers walked into the bar. Not just a bad joke in the making.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sidelines

**Author's Note:**

> Annnnnnd my fourth response to pip_malloy's anti-pairing challenge still over at LJ community jak_fanfics, though looking back on this I kind of like the idea of Razer/Torn. XD; This one is another one that I've been wanting to do and finally got around to doing because I got the chance to bring it to light. ~~Now excuse me while I go and squee over Razer, okay?~~

The bar was blissfully sparse of customers when Torn walked in. By now, the racers that had qualified would be close to finishing the last of their rounds, so everyone was probably busy watching that or participating to bother with a drink right about now. Good riddance.

Strolling over to the bar, the Freedom League commander took a seat front and center at the counter, ordering their strongest drink, though thought a moment before merely asking for a shot and not something larger, as he had originally planned. In this or any town on this planet, it was wise not to get too disorganized, especially with the rivalries and enemies he had to deal with on a daily basis. That didn’t mean he wasn’t planning to get as close to plastered without falling on his ass as possible, however.

The bartender filled his order and slapped it gently in front of him before returning to his work of cleaning the counters and counting the stock. No questions asked, no conversations started – what a swell guy.

With as much care as he could muster, he nursed the small glass, even someone the likes of Torn unable to completely hide a grimace at the powerful kick created by the concoction. Strongest drink indeed.

The doors of the establishment creaked open then, letting in a couple streams of light before the place was struck back into darkness. Torn didn’t even bother to turn around like the majority of those seated in the place to eye the newcomer, which some might consider his first mistake of the night. Instead he finished the drink, motioning for another when, finally, the person who had just entered announced his presence. Only then did the brunette show some sign of acknowledgement.

“Well, would you look at this, boys? One of the animals has left the pack to attend the watering hole. How quaint.”

The tattooed man frowned at the annoyance of being bothered, his body only twisting enough so that the suave man wasn’t entirely at his back. With as calm a manner as he could manage in this instance, he made a sweeping glance at the clock, looking to consider the time before seemingly murmuring to himself, “That was a short race. Jak must have beaten you quickly today.”

The newcomer, Razer, didn’t rise to the bait, his usual smirk still peeking out from behind the cigarette between his lips.

“I’m surprised you would have that figured, though I suppose you are used to watching from the sidelines,” he shot back ever-so-smoothly.

Torn snatched his drink from the bartender before he could even get it within inches of the counter’s surface. He took a swift sip, trying to keep it measured. In his younger days, when he went Lurker Shark hunting for the KG, he’d learned quickly not to alert the nasty beasts to your wounds. They could smell the blood and fear from miles away if you let them.

Without another word, surprisingly, the dark-haired man took a seat close to him while his lackies split off around the room. They appeared to have backed off for the moment, but Torn didn’t buy it for a second. He could still feel the full set of eyes on him just as before.

“I’m not accustomed to making deals of this nature, but I’ve been told by my…‘superior’ that I should at least give you the benefit of the doubt,” the man continued, sounding more like he was talking of the weather or discussing stocks, all while drinking champagne or some such thing. Who needed chivalry with that kind of voice? Ugh.

“And what would that be?” Torn asked calmly, setting his drink down to free up his hands. He didn’t try to hide the gesture.

“Join us,” Razer answered simply, without adding the ‘or else’. With ears like Torn’s, it wasn’t like he really needed it spelled out to him. “It would be in your best interests, I can assure you.”

Out of pure curiosity, the brunette couldn’t help but ask, “And this would be beneficial to me, how?”

“I’ll see that you’re always in the top three, I can _assure_ you of that. I can personally see to it.”

Torn made a show of deep concentration, as if he was actually considering the offer, before he snorted, taking another small swig out of the shot glass. “I think I’ll pass.”

Razer sighed, sounding disappointed when it was obvious on his face that he truly wasn’t. “I had told Mizo not to expect anything less of you. More’s the pity, but business is still business.”

Something metallic slid open, the distinct noise of a butterfly knife alerting the FL commander that this apparently wasn’t just a deal conference, but a hit job as well. Just wonderful. Soon, the sounds of cloth moving and a stool creaking as the weight on top of it moved too quickly off it had him going for his own blade. He’d hidden the bulk of the huge dagger under his white protective vest, the small bit of hilt that had shown at the top hidden by his hair. The tactic had worked so well that when he whipped it out from its hiding place and met Razer’s own weapon of choice, a look of pure surprise crossed the man’s face. What Torn wouldn’t have done for a camera right about then.

“Oh my,” Razer offered as his expression returned back to normal, voice still smooth and cheerful even with his arm shaking from the strain of holding up against the commander. Nothing serious here, young sir, just a small miscalculation, you see. Yeah, right.

Chairs clattered to the floor as Razer’s lackies shot up to their feet, and Torn beat them to the punch, his free hand going to one of the two pistils at his disposal and aiming it at the nearest one - Cutter - who also happened to be stationed smack dab in the middle of his two comrades. One of them took a hesitant step back in the face of the barrel of his gun, but they all wisely stayed there on the other side of the room.

“You can’t possibly take us all out,” Razer darkly pointed out, the sudden change in demeanor not lost on him. He’d managed to get two reactions out of the man today – must be a record for him or something.

“Oh yeah? Which one of you wants to be the first to die, then?”

Shiv shifted behind him, just barely inside of his vision. Without taking his eyes off the red-coated racer, Torn released the safety on his gun and cocked it, the clicking noises like a declaration of death in the room.

“You want to be it, Earless? Is that it?”

“That’s it, you’ve made your point, Commander,” Razer said in the same dark tone as before, his arm loosening only slightly against his blade. When Torn did the same, he retracted his blade, a gloved hand running along the sharp edge to close it. “I suppose we shall concede this day.”

“Good to hear it.”

With a sharp incline of his head, his men slowly filed out of the room, but not without each giving Torn an individual look of absolute rage and promise of a hard time on the track later. He merely looked at them – through them – like they weren’t even there. He’d pretend to be impressed some other time.

“But mark my words, this isn’t over,” Razer continued from before, drawing back Torn’s attention.

“We’ll make it a date, then,” he replied with a sarcasm and dryness only perfected through thorough use, taking a seat once more as soon as the man had left after a mechanical straightening of his collar. Torn still had a drink to finish.

-Fin-


End file.
